


The frock

by imsfire



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Cassian Andor: Cunnilingus Addict, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, also Cassian just may be a tad kinky in this AU, as in underwear fetish, day two theme: spicy, for rebelcaptain smut weekend 2018 day two, yes hurrah finally I get to use that tag!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 10:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: Jyn hates her disguise for an undercover mission; Cassian does what he can to help her feel more at home in her skin...





	The frock

“I know I’m the best choice for this mission.  I’ve read the briefing docs.  I’m his “type”, Force help me.  But have you _seen_ what I have to wear?”

Jyn shakes out her skirts and gives her reflection in the ‘fresher mirror her best 100-yard killer stare.

“I haven’t,” says a mild voice from the next room. “Because you won’t come out of the bathroom.” 

His tone is bordering on uninterested; which is enough in itself to tell her it’s an act.  Is he looking forward to seeing what outfit she’s been got-up in, or dreading it? 

He was angry when she was assigned to the role.  But the cover absolutely requires a young, well-spoken, Coruscanti-accented white female, and there’s no way Cassian can pull that off.  Instead, he has to stay on the ship and monitor her progress via comm-link, and she already knows how much he hates doing that.  Stuck in a support role, unable to intervene no matter what happens, just helplessly listening.  Even though he knows and loves her competence, he still hates it when she’s on the front line and he can only back her up on comms. 

She was there when he sat freezing the air in the briefing room for a whole hour, glaring at General Draven.  It was funny, at the time.  But that was before she saw her costume; her _frock_.

The cover’s simple; Jyn is going into the enemy HQ on Meilar undercover as a teacher attending a job interview.  Governess to the Garrison Commander’s two young children.  _Governess!_   Like something out of a historical melodrama.  And she looks it, too. 

She’s never worn anything like this in her life.  It’s weird, looking at her reflection, seeing her own face atop this monstrosity of a garment.

“I look repulsive,” she tells him through the closed door.  “Like I’m in the novitiate for one of those surrender-all-autonomy-and-get-bitch-slapped-daily religious orders.  The sort that are maybe one remove from decraniation.  Hideous.  This guy must be so sick.”

“I don’t believe you could ever look hideous,” Cassian says.  He’s starting to sound a trifle concerned.

Well, there’s nothing for it.  She tries to take a deep breath and winces as the corsetry grips her round the ribcage.  Pushes the door open and walks into the cabin.  “That’s kind of you.  Take a look.  This may change your mind.”

He pushes his seat round, looks up, and stares. 

Should it be gratifying, to see how right she was?  Or depressing?  Because clearly her appearance is just as much of a shock to him as it is to her. 

The dress is charcoal grey, of course, made of heavy woven stuff of a shade just slightly darker than the classic Imperial uniform; and it’s long-sleeved and high-necked, with a full skirt reaching almost to the floor.  The only relief to the desert of drab weight is its demure little collar of white lace.  The long heavy skirts are positively hampering and the bodice is tight, ribbed with bone stays, and so figure-hugging she can only bend with difficulty. 

“I feel like the bastard offspring of a nun and a star destroyer.”

“You look,” Cassian says after a moment “different.”

“Yeah.  Creepy Freak levels of different.”

He purses his lips, playing for time, perhaps looking for something tactful to say. “Not creepy.  Just – prim.  Tight-buttoned.  But that’s good.”

“Good?”  Jyn takes a few steps towards him, armoured in her corsetry and with one eyebrow raised.  “You mean you like it?”  She lowers her lashes and flicks them, very slow.  The way the briefing had suggested.  “Do you like me like this, Captain?”

Cassian blinks.  “Well – uh – I like you however you come.  Dressed, undressed, you know that.” _Ah, good save, my dear._   “But for this mission – for this guy –“

“This _arsehole_.  Commander Jorin _I-wanna-fuck-a-nun_ Reilon.”

“ – yeah, him – you read the intel, he finds this kind of puritanical weaponised femininity a big turn-on.”  He gives her a small smile, half-apologetic and half amused. “You’ve matched the briefing brilliantly, Jyn.  You’ll probably get offered the job.”

“Well, I’m not taking it.  Seriously, this is an in-and-out for me.  Plant the bugs and run.  Or at least, walk out very sedately.”  Jyn pulls at the waistband, pushes and tugs at the boning where it digs into her sides.  “Honestly, it’s like being locked in a box.  And as for my poor boobs –“ her hands rise to the carefully cantilevered and padded construction hoisting up her bust – “I feel as if I’ve been retrofitted with 3000-pounder forward cannon.”

The image is clearly too much for Cassian; his eyes lock on her up-thrust bosom and he coughs, tries not to laugh, and fails.  “Yeah, you’ve got some good weaponry there alright!”

Jyn grins, because actually it's kind of fun, teasing him like this.  She hitches up her skirts.  “Look, even my undies are Imperial high fashion wank issue.  But at least I could put the garter belt to good use.”

Her boots are close-fitting; knee-high grey leather, tight-buttoned all the way to the top, viciously utilitarian and pseudo-military, and worn over sheer black stockings and gauzy, barely-there underwear.  Black net panties edged with openwork embroidery, black lace garters and suspenders.  With a vibro-blade strapped on one thigh and a miniaturised blaster holstered on the other. 

His expression Is getting to be pretty funny.

Holding up the heavy folds of fabric like a dancer she gives him a quick shimmy. 

Cassian’s eyes are very wide, but he relaxes as she begins to exaggerate her moves.  Slowly, he hesitates into a smile.  He holds her gaze; a long, long look exchanged before he places first one hand and then the other on her, soft and firm on her thighs, to either side of her weapons.

The urge to make a joke of this is fading in the face of his real care for her; and “I just don’t feel right,” Jyn says.  She smiles ruefully back at him. “I’m used to having to wear a disguise sometimes but this frock is a fucking carapace.”  

His hands are very warm on her skin.

“You know I want to be there for you,” he says softly. “What can I do to help?”

She wants that touch so much.  Not to be some Imperial creep’s ice-maiden fantasy of power, but to be the woman Cassian cares about and trusts, the one he touches with such gentleness, with his soldier’s hands.

“Help me feel at home in my skin,” Jyn says. “Help me feel like I’m still me in this thing.”

“This is you,” Cassian tells her softly.  “Not _this_ –“ as he quickly touches the steel-caged bodice – “this.”  He strokes the bare skin at the tops of her stockings, and slowly moves his hands up, round, drawing her closer.  One more step, and she’s straddling his lap. “This is you,” he murmurs. “Doing this, risking this, bearing this.  Doing what has to be done.  It’s always been you.  Under all the armour.  My armoured love.”  He leans forward and places a delicate kiss on the front of her left leg, between the lace stocking-top and the blued steel of the blade.  “This.”  Another kiss, lingering and soft, his rough beard tickling and scratching tantalisingly.  “This…” and his mouth moves slowly up, trailing little kisses all the way into the crease of her thigh.  For a long moment he presses in, right between her legs, and his breath is hot on her skin.  She shivers; feels him inhale hungrily as he nuzzles her through the thin net.

Something lights up inside Jyn.  Fire and fever, and pleasure, and she lets herself make a small, half-articulate sound of satisfaction.  “Mmm… yes – oh _yes_!”

For one moment more she can see him, looking up at her with heat and mischief in his eyes.  The he reaches up and pulls a fold of the skirt away from her, right out of her grasp.  He drags it over his head, burrowing under it.  She releases the rest and watches the fabric settle over him, enveloping him completely.  Hidden away and pressed against her core; and she can feel his touch all the more fiercely now for being unseen.

The bump of his head shifts, forward and down, and she realises he’s dropped out of his seat and fallen to his knees to get closer to her.  His hands creep round onto her hips, and up, cupping her ass, fingertips feeling higher to catch at the lacy elastic of those ridiculous wet-dream panties.  Slowly and carefully he slides them down off her buttocks, off her hips; plucks the fabric away from between her legs; lifts it carefully over the holstered weaponry and down all the way to her ankles.  He helps her lift her booted feet one by one, and she wonders what he’s going to do with the clothing he’s removed; then forgets it entirely as he slowly strokes upwards again, gripping her leather-clad ankles and calves possessively, then ghosting his fingers over the backs of her knees, her thighs, up to her bare ass.  His breath comes hot and hard against her pussy.

He noses into her again, nuzzling deeper this time, and Jyn’s legs go quick and liquid with pleasure; she moans her approval, feeling his tongue pushing forward, probing her where she’s burning, already swollen and wet with anticipation.  He touches her clit, a little hot dab of contact, and she has to grab for the back of the empty chair to stay upright.  She gasps, encouraging, shivering; fighting the urge to clamp her legs round him and ride down, to press and writhe on his urgent hot mouth.

Cassian purrs and mutters something, as inaudible as he’s invisible.  He’s nuzzling and licking at her, moist breath and skilful lips perfect, tongue hard, licking deep and long.  She feels his hands work round again, steadying and opening her.  He pushes up, groaning, pressing harder.  How can he breathe in there?  She doesn’t want to smother him; but her muscles are aching from trying to hold steady above him.  She’s melting, throbbing, the sensual pulse growing faster and hotter inside her.

It’s thrilling and terrifying and strangely fascinating, to feel something so tenderly, hotly intimate, and then look down and see just a bump under her skirts, moving rhythmically, pumping at her in the dark.  He sucks and licks her out with little euphoric murmurs.  Her body is thrumming with sensitivity.  She can’t see where his hands or his mouth will go next, and every nerve seems to be fired to an acuteness like a whimper in her skin, anticipating.  Every gasp of his breath is an explosion going off.  She drops her free hand to the dome of his head, feels his hair rumple through the heavy fabric as she presses him closer. 

Jolts and shudders as he teases her wet lips with a finger suddenly, and then slowly slides it into her. 

“Ahh!  I can’t – I can’t, Cassian, I can’t stand, my legs are going to go –“

It’s both a blessed relief and acute frustration to feel him withdraw from her.  He’s panting like a busted heat-pump under her skirt.  Muffled and intense he gasps “Can you sit down in the chair?  I can’t see where it is from here…”

“I’m amazed you can see anything at all…” 

“All I can see is you.  You…” His voice is softening into a growl.  He leans in for a second and breathes out heat on her wet core.  “Ahh, Jyn, sit down, let me get to you, I need you…”

Jyn manages to pull the cabin’s one seat around and swivels towards it; at her feet Cassian shuffles on his knees to keep pace with her, and she laughs, breathless and delighted at the sight.  He isn’t going to give up.  She hitches up her skirts enough to sit down with a grunt of relief; and immediately he’s leaning in, pressing into her again, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder to give himself better access.  He groans happily as he gets his mouth on her again.

She’s so wet, and if anything her legs are trembling more for no longer having to support her weight.  She clasps his head through the heavy skirt, feels the fabric slide and catch in his hair.  Feels his fingers probe and pulse on her again, parting her lips, pushing inside; and she twists her hips and works herself onto him, clutching him close as he sucks convulsively on her clit and finger-fucks her into ecstasies.  Her orgasm grows and peaks and grows again, carries her up like a storm.  The constricting cage of the bodice makes it hard to inhale; her breath is becoming frantic, it’s possibly she may pass out from lack of air, but she’s coming, she’s coming, wave after wave of it pulsing inside her.  She’s suffocating with pleasure, panting, sinking back into the unpadded chair, trembling with release.   She writhes against Cassian’s mouth as he whimpers into her pussy and his fingers press home, curling inside her, his voice is hoarse and stifled, he gasps for air and plunges down on her again, and Jyn cries out his name and comes apart, mouth open and eyes closing, her own voice shouting aloud, joyful.  For a moment the dark cabin fades into a blissful breathless white-out, and her fingers tighten and relax on his head. 

He keeps his fingers inside her, moving, his mouth sucking, tongue slowly licking, for long minutes more as she comes down. 

She can hear herself moaning, hot throbbing pulses of pleasure still rippling through her.  Under the cover of her dress Cassian makes tender, satisfied sounds and she feels him turn his head and press kisses down her thigh, slowly circling the blaster.  He works up towards her core again, licking the moisture from her skin, murmuring with happy wordless noises.  Nips her, hard enough she knows it will leave a mark, and sucks gently to soothe the sting.  She’ll go into her mission with the red badge of his teeth right on the tender skin of her inner thigh. 

It’s as good as having an extra weapon.

“Oh Cassian, oh my love…  thank you.  That was awesome…”

She grabs handfuls of the fabric and rakes it back, hauling it off him.  Cassian looks up, breathless with heat and effort and pleasure, from where he’s nestled between her legs; eyes blown and wild, hair in glorious disorder.  His face is crimson.

“Hot in there,” he says with a mischievous smile.

“It certainly was.  Fuck, yeah!”  Jyn still has one leg slung over him; he turns his head to nibble at her stocking top and kiss her again.  “Oh, love,” she says again.  “You are a wonder.”

“You feel more like you now?”

“Hells, yeah.  Never felt better.  Thank you.  For helping me feel good in my skin.”

Very gently he lowers her upraised leg to the deck.  “My pleasure.  Believe me, it was.  My pleasure and my bliss.  You taste so good, Jyn.  Always so good.”

He sits back on his heels, and Jyn leans forward.  She tightens her knees on either side of him.  Sits very upright, still panting slightly inside her rigid Imperial frock. 

“You are the best,” she says “and when I get back I’m returning the favour.”

Cassian’s overheated colour has just begun to fade but he flushes scarlet again at that.  His eyes go bashful and he bites his lower lip.  “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.  Nothing so good to hear as the sound of you losing it.”  Jyn has almost caught her breath again.  She sets both booted feet firmly on the deck and stands up carefully.  Every inch the perfect Governess Vamp, waging war with a show of icy virtue and lace-edged femininity.  “Force, I feel so much better for that.  I’m almost tempted to go into the field just like this.  But I guess it’s safer not to, so - please may I have my knickers back, Captain?”

Cassian sticks his bottom lip out for a moment, pantomiming reluctance; then produces a crumpled morsel of gauze from the back pocket of his pants.  He lifts the sheer fabric to his face before passing it to her; inhales, closes his eyes for a second, kisses the garment like a good-luck token.  Then hands it over; on his knees before her, his eyes on hers lusting and loyal, determined she’ll know herself his, and loved.

She’ll carry that memory alongside his love bite, into her mission, bearing her weapons and the armour of his touch, proudly into danger and home again to his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> So this may just possibly have been inspired by a certain memorable moment in "Casanova"...


End file.
